


Quit it, Merlyn!

by feather_aesthetic



Series: Terrible stories I wrote when I was 12 but figured I'd dump on here anyway [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, tickle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 20:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feather_aesthetic/pseuds/feather_aesthetic
Summary: Tommy teases his girlfriend with some secret knowledge.





	Quit it, Merlyn!

Laurel Lance was stretched out on Tommy’s couch, reading a mystery novel. The lawyer had, of course, picked out the perp within the first chapter, and was in the process of skipping to the end to find out if she was right. Tommy walked in and glanced at the title. Seeing what Laurel was doing, he asked:

“Who did it?”

“The butler,” she sighed absentmindedly, skimming the passage in which he confessed and made a failed attempt to flee. Tommy laughed incredulously as he flopped onto the couch next to her bare feet.

“The butler! That has got to be the most cliché ending to a mystery book ever!” Laurel hummed her agreement as she flipped through the last few pages. Tommy started gently playing with her toes, sending her into a fit of giggles. It had taken him a while to find her weak spot. Her nerve endings didn’t spread out all over her body like normal, instead they seemed to have re-routed themselves and concentrated exclusively in the soles of her feet. Not so much fun for Laurel: endless fun for Tommy. 

“Quit it, Merlyn!” she laughed, covering one foot with the other. He rested his hand on the foot she was using to protect the other one and rubbed his thumb over the soft part of her arch. Laurel shrieked, jumped about a foot into the air, and kicked his thigh, hard. He rubbed the spot, a hurt expression on his face.

“What was that for?” he whined. Laurel, having recovered, was lying on her back on the couch now, head propped up on a pillow and feet kept cautiously out of his reach. She grinned.

“Don’t you remember what I told you?” Tommy searched his brain for her words, but finally shrugged. She rolled her eyes. “I said,” she struggled to keep the laughter out of her voice as he crept towards her predatorily, “that unless you want to be hurt, don’t touch my feet!” She squealed as he leapt for her, grabbing both her legs around the knees and holding tight. Grinning at her with a glint in his eye that was a little too evil in her opinion, he began mercilessly tickling the bottoms of her feet. Laurel shrieked, struggling helplessly.

“No!” she squealed, twisting in his grip. “Tommy, stop!” Her last word fell away into the hysterical laughter that was starting to make her stomach ache. When Tommy deemed that he had had enough fun, he stopped, leaving Laurel panting and giggling. 

“Tommy, when I get up, I am going to kill- ah!” She was cut off by her own squeal when he ran a finger across her sole.

“You were saying?” he smirked.

“I hate you,” she grumped, crossing her arms.

“No you don’t. You looooooove me.”

“I do not,” she huffed, turning away.

“Say it. Say you love me.”

“No way!”

“Say it or else!”

“Or else what?” He pinched one of her toes. Laurel squeaked.

“Okay, okay!” she giggled. “I’ll say it!” Laurel sighed. “‘Love you,” she muttered.

“What was that?” He pinched another toe, sending her into a fit of laughter.

“I love you!” she said louder. Tommy finally released her. She sat up with a moan. “Still hate you,” she mumbled.

“Oh you are so dead,” Tommy grinned, reaching for her. She leapt up away from him, and he gave chase. And if anyone cared to listen, for the next hour all that could be heard coming from Tommy’s large apartment were the sounds of Laurel and Tommy chasing after each other and laughing, and Laurel’s squeals when he caught her.


End file.
